Wind and Thunder
by DamnDonnerGirls
Summary: "Gale was named after the howling winds; Madge was born of a woman called Thunder. Together, they make the perfect storm." Gadge short stories dreamed up on Tumblr. Ch 3, "Shower": When indie actress Madge Undersee is cast opposite Hollywood heartthrob Gale Hawthorne, their onscreen chemistry leads to something more. Rated M.
1. Badgers and Gophers (rival schools)

_Happy New Year! I've finally jumped on the short story bandwagon. These one-shots debuted on Tumblr, but I'm reposting them here for friends and readers who prefer FFN. The version notes will indicate how much was edited/added/changed, if applicable. _

_The title, "Wind and Thunder", is based on the happy coincidence (OR IS IT?) that Gale's name literally means "a strong wind", and Madge's mother's maiden name, Donner, is German for thunder._

_Thanks for reading and have a great 2015!_  
><em>DDG<em>

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><p><strong>Title:<strong> "Badgers and Gophers"

**Summary:** Madge's patience, acting skills, and sanity are tested when she pretends to be from a rival school on the day of the big football game. But never in her wildest dreams did she expect the enemy to be so hunky.

**Supporting characters: **Peeta Mellark, Johanna Mason, Katniss Everdeen

**Version notes:** Typo corrections and minor tweaks in phrasing. Originally posted on Tumblr on January 2, 2015 for New Year birthday girl **londonrainings**. LR, thank you and ILY forever!

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><p><em>.<em>

_November 2013_

.

Madge Undersee was a sensible person. She was on the dean's list at the University of Wisconsin not just because she was smart, but also because she paid attention in class, went to her professors' office hours, and read everything on the syllabus. She played classical piano, had dutifully taken ballet and figure skating lessons up until tenth grade, did what her parents told her to do.

So what the _hell_ was she doing, getting ready to watch the Badgers' annual football grudge match against their archrivals, the University of Minnesota Golden Gophers—in _Minneapolis_?

"They're going to _know_, Peeta," she hissed at Peeta Mellark, her next-door neighbor of twenty-one years and the brains behind this ridiculous operation. "They're going to take one look at us and know we're the enemy."

_How_ did Peeta manage to talk her into this, exactly? _Oh, right,_ she thought glumly. _Peeta can talk anyone into anything._ And the chai spiced apple pie he'd baked for her didn't hurt, either.

"Relax, Madge," Peeta reassured her. "It's going to be all right. Jo's going to take care of us."

"Are you sure?" she asked skeptically. Peeta's cousin Johanna Mason, who had grown up in Minneapolis and went to the University of Minnesota, scared the bejeezus out of her. Granted, Jo had been kind enough to put them up—they were at her family's house that very moment—and they were all going to the TCF Bank Stadium together so that Peeta and Madge wouldn't have to drive around with Wisconsin plates. But Madge couldn't shake the feeling that Jo had something up her sleeve.

"Positive."

Madge sighed. "I don't know why you're so calm, Peeta. If anyone recognizes you from wrestling, we're doomed. This Katniss better be worth it."

"Don't worry, Madge," Peeta said confidently. "She is."

**.**

**ooo**

**.**

Ever since Jo introduced Peeta to her friend Katniss Everdeen via Skype—he'd sent Jo a box of homemade cheese buns, and apparently Katniss was a fan—Peeta had not shut up about her for one second. The two of them kept in touch, and somehow Peeta had gotten it into his head that meeting her in Minneapolis on the day of the big game was the best way to show her how serious he was about her.

From the looks of it, Katniss was as smitten with Peeta as he was with her, and it made Madge feel slightly better to know that she could at least count on Katniss not to out them. So Madge sat there in the stadium with the star-crossed lovers, Jo, and over 50,000 Gophers fans decked out in maroon and gold. She cheered with the best of them, throwing her arms up in the air and getting up on her feet at the appropriate times. She even pretended to know the songs.

"I can never remember the words to these things," Gale Hawthorne, a very tall and very handsome friend of Katniss and Jo's who had taken the seat next to hers, shouted in her ear.

Madge was about to yell back her agreement, but stopped herself just in time. Katniss and Jo had sworn up and down that they didn't, _wouldn't_ tell anyone that Peeta and Madge were from Wisconsin, but what if Gale had seen through her? What if he was baiting her?

Fortunately, the song came to the part where it just spelled out "Minnesota", and Madge was so relieved that instead of answering Gale's question, she screamed each letter out until she was hoarse.

It took all of Madge's self-control to keep the act up when Wisconsin won, 20–7, and also when a scuffle broke out on the field, right before the Badgers could use the prize—"Paul Bunyan's Axe"—to ceremoniously "chop down" the goal post.

But the game, it turned out, had only been half the battle.

"Where did all these people come from?" she wailed, panicking as the Masons' house started filling up with disgruntled strangers wearing Gophers gear and consoling each other with the fact that, despite the Badgers' ten-year winning streak, Minnesota had still won more times since the tradition started in 1890.

"I don't know!" Peeta whispered back before disappearing into the crowd with Katniss.

Someone tapped her on the shoulder, and Madge whirled around to find herself staring at Gale's very broad chest. "Hey," he said with a crooked grin. "For a minute there, I thought I'd lost you."

He'd taken off his stupid maroon and gold Gophers trapper hat, and his dark hair was so thick and adorably tousled that Madge was torn between wanting to run her hands through it and wanting to strangle him because her own fine blonde hair was plastered flat against her head after being trapped under a Gophers beanie all day. It was so unfair.

Instead, she laughed nervously. "Me?" she said. "Where would I go?" _I'll run all the way back to Madison if I have to._

Gale steered them to the corner farthest from the sound system. "So tell me why I haven't seen you on campus before."

Her mind raced. "I'm a music major," she told him. That, at least, was true. "My kind doesn't go out much." Less true, but plausible. "During the day, I mean." _Great. Now he's going to think I'm some sort of musical vampire._

His gray eyes lit up. "Cool," he said, sounding impressed. "What instrument do you play?"

"Piano, mostly," she said, mentally kicking herself for adding the second word as soon as she heard it coming out of her mouth. But since it was already out there, it would be weird not to elaborate. "I also know guitar." She declined to mention violin.

"I play some guitar, too," he said. "I'm trying to teach my brothers, actually. Any tips?"

"Well, I'm a believer in learning things in the right order," she said, feeling more comfortable with this conversation by the minute, and not entirely certain whether that was good or bad. "I'd make sure they perfect the basics first, so they don't develop bad habits. And they should do scales. Lots and lots of scales."

They talked into the night, grabbing beer and pizza whenever they magically appeared. They talked about music (Gale loved eighties rock) and Gale's siblings (Rory, Vick, and Posy). Gale was an athlete himself—he played ice hockey—but Madge decided against bringing up figure skating, in case he asked which rink she used to train at. Fortunately, they didn't run out of other things to say, and soon they discovered that they both loved _Pacific Rim_ and could literally live off macaroni and cheese.

"I wouldn't have guessed it," Gale said, looking at her with—was it admiration?—when Madge declared her undying devotion to their favorite food. "A princess like you?"

Just then, Johanna showed up, slinging one arm around Madge's shoulder and another arm around Gale's waist. "_Princess_ is right," she slurred, giving Madge a wet kiss on the cheek. "Did you know, Gorgeous, that Madgey here was once a dairy—"

"I think you're a little _too_ drunk, Jo," Madge interrupted her before Jo could finish saying "dairy princess" and reveal a part of Madge's past that she would rather Gale not know about. Besides, even though Minnesota had dairy princess pageants, too, there was no way Madge could fake intimate knowledge of how they were run.

But it was too late; Gale figured out what Jo meant to say. "Really?" he said, intrigued. "You were Princess Kay of the Milky Way? What year? I don't really keep track of those things, but I would've remembered you."

_This is it,_ Madge thought. _This is where I die._ Whether she would succumb to the anxiety of being a Badger at a Gopher party, or sheer bliss at the compliment that Gorgeous Gale had just paid her, she didn't know. But she was definitely going to die _here_, in Minneapolis, wearing a maroon and gold scarf that made her look like a Gryffindor. _If I knew I was going to die dressed like someone out of _Harry Potter_, I would have at least wanted to be a Ravenclaw. _

"No, of course not," she said hurriedly. "Jo's just joking. Weren't you, Jo?" She would've kicked Jo in the shin if it weren't so obvious.

Jo's eyes glazed over. "My great-grandpa was a lumberjack," she announced, forgetting all about Midwestern milk monarchies. She wandered off, shouting at random people about how her ancestors had been friends with Paul Bunyan.

"Speaking of Paul Bunyan," Gale said, turning back to Madge. "Have you heard about the time the Badgers' dorm burned down?"

_Here we go._ The inevitable Wisconsin joke, and it wasn't even an original one. Madge felt her heart sink. "No," she lied. "What happened?"

"They lost all their stuff," Gale answered seriously. "All twenty of their books. Even the fifteen that weren't colored in yet."

Madge gave it her best fake laugh, but Gale only took that as a signal that she wanted more. _Why doesn't Wisconsin have a water polo team?_ All the horses drowned. _How do you make a Badger laugh all weekend?_ Tell him a joke on Monday morning. _What happens when a blonde moves from Minnesota to Wisconsin?_

"I don't know," Madge said wearily. "What _does_ happen when a blonde moves from Minnesota to Wisconsin?"

It was an old, tired punchline, but Gale delivered it with glee. "Both states become smarter!"

Madge ground her teeth. _She_ was a blonde from Wisconsin; she wasn't going to take this lying down. But she couldn't very well confront him in the middle of the party, surrounded by so many people.

"Hey, Gale," she said, her voice syrupy sweet. "It's getting a bit stuffy in here. What do you say we head up to one of the guest rooms? Just you and me?"

Gale's eyebrows shot up. "Lead the way, princess."

Madge's heart pounded in her ears, trying to ignore how good Gale smelled—some combination of pine, laundry detergent, and Minnesotan pheromones that appealed to her more than she cared to admit—as she threaded her arm through his and led him up the stairs.

As soon as they were alone, she put a hand on his chest and pushed until his back was against the wall. "Look here, mister," she began heatedly. "You think you're funny, but all your Wisconsin jokes are just rehashed Minnesota jokes. You want to know how I know? Because _I'm_ a Badger, you asshole. Here's another joke for you: What do U of M students like Gale Hawthorne use for birth control? _Their personalities._"

Madge expected him to run back down the stairs, screaming about the impostor. But from the way Gale was biting his lip, and the way the muscles twitched in his cheeks and jaw, it looked like he was trying his hardest not to smile.

Finally, he gave up. "I know, Madge," he told her, his infuriatingly attractive face breaking into a wide grin. "I knew it from the moment you showed up with Peeta."

"What?" Madge said, dumbfounded. "Who told you?"

"Nobody," Gale clarified, covering Madge's hand on his chest with his own. A tingle ran up her spine from the contact. "But Katniss is my best friend. We go way back. When I realized she had a thing for some guy she met online, I had to make sure he wasn't bad news, you know? Even if he is Jo's cousin. So I Googled his name and found out. Peeta Mellark, University of Wisconsin wrestling team."

Suddenly, Madge was filled with righteous anger. "You mean, all those Wisconsin jokes—"

"I wanted to see if you would lose your cool," he smirked. "And you didn't, until just now. Seems the princess is every inch a diplomat. And a pretty good actress, too."

_Lose my cool?_ Madge was bubbling with rage, and the nickname that had sounded borderline cute earlier was now grating on her ears. "I swear, if you call me princess _one more time..._"

"What, Madge?" Gale challenged her. His smile was gone and his gray eyes had turned almost black. "What will you do… _princess_?"

Madge curled her fingers, crushing the soft flannel of Gale's maroon plaid shirt—the man was impervious to cold—in her fist. "_This._"

Every last sensible bone in her body screamed at her, but Madge ignored them all as she pulled Gale closer. But the moment she pressed her lips to his, her eyes closed and the reason _why_ she was kissing him flew out the window. She wasn't teaching Gale any lessons, not with the way her knees buckled when he put his hand on the small of her back, not with the way she let him coax her lips apart and slide his tongue against hers.

"In that case," he breathed, the stubble on his cheeks and chin scratching her skin, "I'm going to call you princess as often as I can."

"Don't get used to it," she managed to say. "I live in Madison."

"That's not too far away."

"Only bad things can come of this," she warned him. "_'Two households, both alike in dignity,'_ and all that."

_"'From ancient grudge break new mutiny,'"_ he quoted right back, tightening his arms around her. "I'm up for it."

For a split second, Madge wondered what Shakespeare would think if he heard his immortal lines applied to state and school rivalries that were played out on sports fields instead of battlefields. But then Gale cupped the back of her head and kissed her again, and she knew she couldn't agree with him more.

_Bring it on._


	2. Like Teenagers Do

**Title:** "Like Teenagers Do"

**Summary:** Youth is wasted on the young, and getting caught is half the fun.

**Supporting characters:** Posy Hawthorne

**Version notes:** Minor edits. Originally posted on Tumblr on October 5, 2014 after I was double-dared by **catreadsbooks** and **Belle453** to write a fic about one of Liam Hemsworth's less inspired sartorial choices.

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><p>Tonight, like countless other nights, a quick run around her neighborhood ended with Madge Undersee's back slammed against the door, Gale Hawthorne's hips pinning her in place while his hands found their way inside her workout shirt.<p>

He grunted when he came in contact with her sports bra. "I hate these things."

"It hurts to run without one," Madge said, her voice vibrating against Gale's lips on her throat. "If you hate it so much, then come inside and take it off."

She turned around and bent over to retrieve the house key she had stuck between her shoelaces and the tongue of her cross-trainers. Gale groaned, grinding into her even harder.

"I want you," he growled into her ear, grasping her hips from behind as she straightened up. "I want you _now_."

Gale plunged a large hand down the waistband of her yoga pants and Madge closed her eyes, ready to be fingered to orgasm on her own front porch when the lights flickered on above them and the door swung wide open, causing them both to almost fall over.

"Mom!" seven-year-old June screeched, at the same time that her twin sister Lily shrieked, "Dad!"

"Kissy!" three-year-old David squealed.

Their parents pulled themselves upright, and Gale withdrew his hand from Madge's pants. Fortunately, by this time, the twins had covered their eyes. Unfortunately, their aunt and babysitter Posy had not.

"Seriously?" Posy fumed. "You are an _old_, _married_ couple, not teenagers after prom!"

"I'm thirty-three, Pose," Gale bristled. He made sure to stay behind his wife so that his little sister wouldn't see his boner.

"I'm nineteen," Posy countered. She lowered her voice and hissed, "And I'm already too old for your shit."

"Do you kiss our mother with that mouth?" Gale groused.

Posy smirked and, despite Madge's mortification, she had to smile. The family resemblance had never been more clear. "I got it from you."

David stretched his arms out toward his father, but Posy swatted Gale's hands away before he could pick up his son. "Wash those hands first!"

Posy herded them into the kitchen, where Madge poured them all a glass of water while Gale washed his hands. "This has got to stop, you two," Posy scolded them. "While you were out, you got calls from not one, not two, but _three_ irate parents who said David tried to kiss their daughters at daycare. One of them used the term _dry humping_. A three-year-old should not be dry-humping anyone!"

Madge took a sip to hide her chuckle. "Sounds like a Hawthorne, all right."

"Madge! This is your fault, too." Posy put her hands on her hips. "Look, I'm thrilled that you guys are back in town. I love that I can finally see all my nieces and nephews whenever I want to. But you have to dial down the PDA, like, a hundred times. It's hardly appropriate for a grown man and woman, not to mention a surgeon and an engineer, to be mauling each other like that all the time. Frankly, it's embarrassing. And—_god_, Gale, what _is_ that?"

Posy pointed an accusing finger at her brother's legs.

Gale glanced down at the white athletic socks that reached up to his calves. "My socks? I thought all the cool kids were wearing them this high nowadays."

"_Cool kids_?" Posy repeated, incredulous.

"Aw, I think they're cute," Madge protested. "Gale can pull them off."

"_Cool kids_?" Posy screeched. "That's it! If I have to be the adult in this house, I'm grounding you! Both of you!" She chased them out of the kitchen.

"Shit, she's serious," Gale whispered to his wife as they scampered up the stairs. "I haven't been yelled at like that since the first time your dad caught us making out in the yard in high school."

Madge wound her arms around her husband's neck as their bedroom door closed behind them. "We should probably do a better job of making sure the kids aren't around before we jump on each other."

"Yeah." Modeling a healthy, loving relationship was one thing, but Gale would hate to be the father of the first beautiful blonde in a pretty dress that David laid his eyes on. "Good thing I don't see any kids in here."

Madge grasped the back of his neck and pulled him down for a kiss. "What are you talking about? I see two very horny kids."

"With cool socks," Gale added as his hands resumed what they were doing when they had been so rudely interrupted by their children and his sister.

Madge sighed happily as her sports bra finally joined the rest of their clothes on the floor. "With very, very cool socks."

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><p>.<p>

**A/N:** The twins are named Lily, after **Belle453**'s "Promises Not Meant to be Broken" (a multi-chapter story in her _Between Gale and Madge_ anthology), and June, after **hawthornewhisperer**'s _Midnight Sun_ fic on Tumblr. Little David is named after David Lee Roth, also because of HW.

I'm so sorry I haven't updated _A Thousand Years_ in, well, a thousand years, and that I haven't reviewed in ages. I'm going through a difficult time (details on Tumblr) and am currently useless socially and creatively except for reposting old fics and angst. Thanks to everyone for their kind wishes and support. It means a lot to me.


	3. Bright Lights: Shower (Hollywood)

**Title:** "Bright Lights: Shower" (Hollywood AU, rated M)

**Summary:** When indie actress Madge Undersee is cast opposite Hollywood heartthrob Gale Hawthorne, their onscreen chemistry leads to something more.

**Supporting characters: **Finnick Odair, Cato, Seneca Crane, mentions of Everlark and Odesta

**Version notes:** Minor edits and cover art (if you are on mobile, you may have to switch to desktop/non-mobile view). Originally posted on Tumblr on September 7, 2014 (Part I) and September 8, 2014 (Part II) as a response to **sohypothetically** and **hawthornewhisperer's** challenge (prompt: shower). This was inspired by **Melika Elena**'s _Across the Universe(s)_ chapter 33 (co-stars AU), **Hawtsee**'s _Implications_ chapter 10 ("Love Scenes"), and **miserella**'s_ like lovers do_.

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><p>.<p>

_**Part I.**_

_**Gale**_

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For all the rumors that TMZ and the tabloids liked to spread about him, Gale Hawthorne had one rule: never date anyone from the entertainment business. He'd tried it once, with Katniss Everdeen when her band Mockingjay was featured on the soundtrack of one of his movies, but everyone knew how well _that_ turned out. Apparently she'd been in love with her drummer the whole time.

So when his director Haymitch Abernathy called in Madge Undersee for a chemistry test and hired her on the spot, Gale knew he was in for a lot of trouble.

**.**

**ooo**

**.**

Gale had always been vaguely prejudiced against blondes, but that quickly went down the drain on their first day on set, when he walked into hair and makeup to find Octavia, Flavius, and Venia oohing and aahing over Madge.

She was the most beautiful woman he had ever met. He thought he would get used to it by now, after the chemistry test and the table read, but the sight of her still took his breath away.

"I don't even _want_ to put makeup on you," Flavius wailed. "It's blasphemy to try to improve upon perfection."

"You and Gale owe it to the human race to get together and reproduce _immediately_," Venia declared emphatically the moment Gale sank down into the seat next to Madge.

Madge bit her lower lip and grinned at Gale's reflection in the mirror, her deep blue eyes sparkling behind a pair of glasses. She was wearing what appeared to be nothing but a silk robe, though Gale was sure she was bound to have something else on underneath, and her shimmering blonde hair was piled on top of her head and wound around an inordinate number of velcro rollers. "No pressure, huh?"

"None whatsoever," Gale agreed, sneaking a look down at the book she had in her lap. _America (The Book)_, by Jon Stewart. In hardcover. _Madge Undersee, where have you been all my life?_

**.**

**ooo**

**.**

By the end of the week, the sexual tension between their characters was overflowing into their real-life interactions, and when they did their first kissing scene it took every ounce of Gale's self-control not to throw Madge over his shoulders and carry her off to his trailer after the cameras stopped rolling.

He was working up the courage to ask her out—Madge loved Japanese food, and Gale's best friend Finnick Odair (whom he had met on the set of a World War II blockbuster five years ago) had recently invested in a Michelin-starred sushi restaurant ten minutes away from Gale's house—when his agent called him, irate.

"Word on the street is that you're sweet on Madge Undersee," Seneca Crane said, wasting no time on pleasantries. "I'm not sure what kind of rock you've been living under, but she's dating Alex Cato, and he's just about ready to pound your face in. You're a good actor, Gale, but may I remind you that your face is _literally_ your moneymaker right now."

Gale felt sick to his stomach. This was Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark all over again. Everlark, the media called them nowadays. What would people call Madge and Alex Cato? Malex? Mato? Fuck the tabloids, and fuck himself for thinking it was going to be different with Madge just because she loved reading and was into politics and was already his sister Posy's idol and… fuck fuck _fuck_.

"I don't know who the hell you're getting your intel from," Gale said, gripping his iPhone so tightly he was sure he was going to break it. "But I'm not sweet on Madge Undersee. Madge Undersee means nothing to me."

**.**

**ooo**

**.**

So he distanced himself from her, sitting on the far end of the craft services table during mealtimes and practically locking himself in his trailer between scenes.

"Cut!" Haymitch bellowed when Gale messed up his lines for the tenth take in a row. "I don't know what's wrong with you, boy, but you better get your head screwed on straight real soon."

_Are you all right?_ Madge texted him later that night, when he was at home. _You've been acting skittish. I'm here if you need to talk._

_I'm fine,_ Gale texted back. _I appreciate your concern for me, but I'm sure your boyfriend Alex wouldn't be too happy._

Gale stared at his phone for a few more minutes, willing it to light up with a new message from Madge, but nothing happened. Her silence was like a punch in the gut. _So it was true._ Gale hoped Alex Cato knew how lucky he was. If that meathead ever hurt Madge… Gale would give TMZ something to talk about, all right.

He threw his phone across the room with all his might and stalked into the bathroom. He needed a shower.

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><p>.<p>

_**Part II. **_

_**Madge**_

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Finnick pulled into the driveway and peered up at Gale's house. Except for one light shining from the second floor, the rest of the windows were pitch black. "Do you want me to come with you?"

"I should be all right," Madge said, unbuckling her seatbelt. "Besides, now that I'm out of the apartment, you can have my roommate to yourself."

Finnick grinned. "I knew there was another reason why I agreed to this."

Madge gave him a quick hug before climbing out of the Tesla Roadster. She still couldn't believe that they had managed to evade the paparazzi while driving around in a flashy convertible, but Finnick had been in show business for years and knew every trick in the book, the most important one of which was to never tweet about where you were going.

Finnick drove off and for a split second Madge considered running after him, jumping back into the car, and simply never talking to Gale Hawthorne again outside a professional setting. But she knew it was out of the question. She'd had a crush on him since his child actor days, and the moment he walked into their chemistry test she'd wanted to climb him like a tree. On their first day on set he'd enthusiastically recommended more books about politics, the environment, and human rights (some of which she'd already read, some of which she hadn't even heard of) and sat tantalizingly close to her as he scrolled through no less than fifty family photos on his phone, telling her cute little anecdotes about his siblings and even their dogs.

And, oh god, that _kiss_. Madge's heart had thudded in her chest the whole time they were filming that scene, and she'd gazed, hypnotized, into Gale's piercing gray eyes as his face moved closer and closer to hers. He'd grasped the back of her neck, nuzzling her cheek before angling his chin, his parted lips finding the empty space between hers. Each time they cut so that the cameras could be repositioned, Gale had lingered, giving her a small, chaste kiss on the corner of her mouth before pulling away, and when it was all over he looked at her with such longing that Madge dared to believe he wasn't acting.

It terrified her when Gale suddenly started avoiding her, but she'd chalked it up to frustration over forgetting his lines until she read his last text referring to Alex Cato as her boyfriend. The accusation had paralyzed her with shock for a good few minutes. Cato was most certainly _not_ her boyfriend, in fact he was secretly dating an Olympic gymnast whose coach had forbidden her to have a life outside her sport. But by the time Madge had pulled herself together, Gale had stopped answering her texts and calls.

Fortunately, Finnick Odair had been at Madge's apartment for the second night in a row, trying to win over her model roommate Annie Cresta with sappy poetry. Madge knew that Finnick and Gale were best friends in that low-key kind of way where they didn't talk or even see each other that often, but they would fly halfway around the world if one needed the other's support. Madge marveled at the fact that she, as shy and awkward as she had been growing up, was now an actress asking People's Sexiest Man Alive for help.

Madge's hand shook slightly as she unlocked the front door with Finnick's copy of Gale's keys. When she wondered aloud why Finnick even _had _Gale's spare keys, he joked: "In the event of his death, Gale gave me strict instructions to delete his browser history."

Or, at least, she hoped he was joking.

Madge let herself in and flicked on the hallway light. "Gale?"

Gale's house had a rustic, country home feel to it, in a tastefully understated way. Madge was relieved that it wasn't a stereotypical bachelor pad outfitted exclusively in black leather and chrome—not that Gale was the type of dudebro who would live somewhere like that, of course—but at the same time, it scared her. Finnick said Gale was single, had been for a while now, but Madge wondered if he had an ex-girlfriend who had done all of his interior decorating.

She padded quietly up the stairs in her flip-flops, admiring the framed photos on the wall along the stairwell. She recognized the faces from Gale's impromptu slideshow: his sister Posy, who was eleven now but was going to be breaking a lot of hearts very soon; and his brothers Vick and Rory, whose boyish good looks reminded her of Gale as a young actor when he was himself fourteen and twenty. Then there was an old photograph of his parents, beaming at the camera and looking blissfully in love. Gale's father had died when he was Vick's age, leading Gale to spend the rest of his teenage years out of the spotlight. When he turned Rory's age, he came back with a vengeance, already a fully formed Greek god. That wasn't even a metaphor: the first role he landed after his hiatus was a bit part in a TV miniseries based on _The Odyssey_, and he completely stole the show.

Suddenly Madge felt self-conscious about the white tank top and navy blue yoga shorts she was wearing. She'd been in such a hurry to come over that she didn't even think about looking good for Gale—she'd just jumped into Finnick's car in the same clothes she had been planning to binge-watch History Channel's _Vikings_ in.

Gale had starred opposite so many amazing, breathtakingly beautiful women, and for a time he'd even dated Madge's personal girl crush Katniss Everdeen, the lead singer of her favorite band. And, most importantly, Gale was an actor. Convincing women he was in love with them was his _job_. Why would he want Madge? The media had taken to calling her an ingénue, the new It Girl, but the truth was that, at twenty-four, she was just a relative newcomer whose only claim to fame was one indie flick that did well at Cannes, and who also happened to have the tragic but critically acclaimed Maysilee Donner as her aunt.

Madge reached the second floor and looked cautiously around her. Light filtered through an open door along the corridor, drawing her in like a moth to a flame.

"Gale?" she called out, her hand on the doorknob. _What if he's with someone? _Madge knew her heart wouldn't be able to take it if she walked in on him in bed with someone else.

When there was still no answer, Madge crept inside carefully. Her foot landed on Gale's phone, which was on the ground near the door. The glass screen was cracked beyond repair.

Normally Madge would have been appalled at this willful misuse of expensive consumer electronics, but this time it made her heart soar. _He's not mad_, she told herself. _He's jealous. _

And with that realization, all her doubts and insecurities flew away, replaced by a growing sense of power.

_He's mine._

**.**

**ooo**

**.**

Gale's bedroom was empty, the enormous bed unmade. Madge followed the sound of a shower going full blast until she found his bathroom.

Without even thinking, Madge slipped off her flip-flops and walked across the tiled floor to the glass-walled shower cubicle. It was so full of steam that Madge could barely make anything out, but the idea that Gale Hawthorne was naked and soaking wet on the other side of that pane of glass was enough to make her drop her panties.

_I won't, though,_ Madge thought as she stepped out of her shorts, leaving her gray boyshort panties on. _He'll have to take them off himself._

She wished she'd had the foresight to put on sexier underwear, but at least these matched Gale's eyes. She reached under her tank top and snapped off her bra, pulling the straps out through the armholes and dropping it on the floor.

Madge opened the shower door and stepped inside, her pulse racing. She'd never been anywhere _near_ sexually aggressive before. But then enough steam cleared to allow Gale's handsome, if confused, face to emerge out of the fog, and she almost forgot her name.

Fortunately, he reminded her. "Madge?" Gale asked. "What—how—"

Madge tilted her head slowly, purposefully, first to one side and then the other, as she shook her hair free of its ponytail. "Finnick is trying to get into my best friend's pants," she said, surprising even herself. "I didn't want them to have all the fun."

There was more than enough space for Madge to step between Gale and the shower without having to brush against him, and she did so, lifting up on her toes and pirouetting in a tight circle until she had been sprayed from all angles. She closed her eyes, enjoying the hot jets of water massaging her skin, imagining his eyes roving up and down her body, watching rivulets of water trickle down her temple and throat before disappearing into her increasingly transparent shirt. "You weren't answering your phone."

Madge's eyes fluttered open to see Gale staring hungrily at the way the damp cotton clung to her curves, and she felt a wetness between her thighs that had nothing to do with the water and everything to do with the glorious man standing in front of her and watching her with hooded eyes. She repaid the favor, enjoying the view of his broad shoulders, muscled chest, and defined abs through the haze of the steam. She briefly took in the top of his iliac furrow—the V-shaped groove running from the hipbone and plunging down, down, _down_—but didn't dare look any lower. Instead, she gazed back up at his face: his chiseled jaw and cheekbones, his dark eyebrows, those eyes that seemed to bore into her soul. "You, of all people, know better than to believe those rumors."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "I saw pictures."

Her laugh tinkled off the tiles. "Let me guess. Me and Cato walking out of Panera? Me and Cato at that cupcake ATM in Beverly Hills? We have the same personal trainer. Whenever either of us finishes a shoot, we meet up and eat every single carb in sight just to spite him. We're just _friends_, Gale—in fact, he has a girlfriend, someone he isn't even supposed to be dating. That's probably why he was happy to encourage the speculation about us. I can tell him to stop, if that makes you feel better. You should have asked me instead of jumping to conclusions. You shouldn't believe everything you hear. You shouldn't believe everything you _see_."

Madge took a step forward, leaning in to whisper in his ear, coming just close enough for her taut nipples to graze his skin through her shirt. Her height had always been a source of despair growing up; she'd felt gangly and about as glamorous as a giraffe. But now, barefoot under the shower with Gale, she was grateful for her genes. "I mean, if people were to walk in and catch us like _this_,"—her breath hitched in her throat—"they would probably assume I was trying to _seduce_ you."

"Aren't you?" he wanted to know, his voice low and dangerous.

With one hand she reached down and found his erection, lightly caressing him with her fingertips while her other hand lifted his chin so he couldn't watch. "No peeking," she teased him. "Let's see… seduction implies an element of resistance. It suggests that you had to be persuaded… convinced, somehow, to _fuck_ me." She watched his Adam's apple bob in his throat and smiled in satisfaction. "So the question, Gale Hawthorne, goes back to you. _Am_ I seducing you? Or is this something you want, just as much as I do?"

Gale made a rumbling sound deep in his chest and crushed her to him, one hand tangled in her hair and the other wrapped tightly around her waist, the soap still slippery on his skin. It was nothing like their kisses on screen. He kissed her roughly, urgently, his tongue tasting of pure lust.

He dipped his head and dragged his lips down her neck, growling against her throat. "What's gotten into you?"

"You did," Madge gasped, her sex kitten voice gone and replaced by a desperate whimper as his hand found the waistband of her panties and tugged it down to her thighs. So many sensations, so many small pleasures all happening at once: the hot water hitting her newly exposed skin, her underwear falling to the floor. Gale digging his fingers into her ass, pulling her toward him so he could grind his hips into hers. "You did this to me."

Gale found her clit, making Madge throw her head back and scream. "Oh, I haven't done _any_thing yet."

He ran his hand down her leg, pulling her knee up until she could feel his smooth, spongy tip pressing dangerously close to her entrance. "I want to stay here," he panted, his teeth sinking into her shoulder through the strap of her tank top. "But the condoms are in the bedroom."

Madge, even in her Gale-addled state of mind, managed to form one last coherent thought before the beautiful man who was about to make love to her short-circuited all the synapses in her brain. "It's just as well," she breathed. "There's a drought in California, after all."

Gale pulled back just enough to look adoringly into her eyes. "That's the sexiest thing I've heard you say." He kissed the tip of her nose. "But don't worry, I've got a rainwater tank and solar panels."

"Well, then." Madge pulled her shirt up over her head, all the invitation Gale needed to bury his head between her breasts. "We can take this to the bedroom, and _then_ come back for another shower."

"Why stop there?" Gale murmured against her wet skin. "There's also the kitchen."

"And the pool."

"And the pool table."

"We could make a sex tape."

"We could make babies."

"Ah, yes. Our responsibility to the human race." Madge laughed throatily. "Let's get through this movie first, shall we?"

Maybe one day, Madge just might tell Gale about the pictures of him she'd stuck inside her locker in middle school. About the posters of him plastered on the walls of her childhood bedroom, including one she had taped to the ceiling, hovering over her as she slept and dreamed. One day. Maybe.

But first, she needed a shower.


End file.
